Stag and Hare
by Lia Kada
Summary: After the war, Harry is traumatized. Luna is the only one who can help him. One-shot. Reviews are nice. x


_Author's Note: This story takes place after Voldemort is defeated in 1998. Harry and Luna are my absolute favorite pairing of all time. I haven't written them in a while, though, so reviews are appreciated. x_

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**Stag and Hare**

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He didn't speak for a while.

Not a word, not to anyone.

He thought he could handle it, he really did. As the battle came to a close and Ron went to comfort his family and Hermione began repairing the decimated world around them, Harry thought he would be alright. Then, the bodies were carried away.

He realized how wrong he had been when he woke up the next day in a fuzzy little room coated in buttery rays of spring sunlight, the scent of breakfast baking in the other room almost giving him the motivation to get up and continue life as normal. He couldn't begin to describe the guilt that had completely burnt the heart out of him when he discovered that it was the Weasley's home he was in, that they had to take care of him after all of the pain he had caused their family. Before Ginny could say, "Good morning," in that voice of hers that tried to pretend like nothing was wrong - like Fred, Lupin, Tonks, and so many others weren't dead - Harry had Apparated out of there, barely able to stop tears from flowing freely down his cheek.

After that, he couldn't talk.

He wasn't sure if it was a choice - he just didn't want to talk - or if there was nothing to describe what he was feeling.

A vicious cycle of guilt, self-loathing, anger, and regret passed through his mind, over and over again, for weeks. He wasn't sure who he was, let alone where he was. He passed from town to town, never spending too much time anywhere. His hair grew out and his clothes became tattered rags and he made sure no one could see his scar when he wasn't sporting some sort of obscure disguise.

But after some time he realized that there was one face that constantly appeared, no matter where he went. He couldn't be sure if he was hallucinating or the girl was physically there with him. He couldn't guess why she would be. Yet, she believed in so many fantastical things…Perhaps he could, too. Just as he hadn't believed in magic when Hagrid first revealed his abilities to him on his eleventh birthday, he hadn't believed that the girl was really with him. Everyone else had given up on him. Even he had given up on himself.

And one day, while Harry was somewhere in a mountainous Greek village, sprawled out onto the mud-caked, shattered tile floor of a shoddy cottage, she spoke. Her words came while the moonlight somehow managed to penetrate the grime-coated windows and bathed the room with a silken light.

"Harry," a dreamy voice floated through his ears and reverberated through his brain in endless loops. "Your head is full of Wrackspurts, even more than usual."

He had a thousand words inside of him now, and he reached out to brush her glowing alabaster skin, but his limbs were heavy and she was drifting in and out of his world, blurred and translucent.

"They would want you to keep living, Harry. This isn't living. You exist, but you're not alive," she continued. There was a particular warmth inside of him she had caused. A fire she had ignited. She was the spark.

He wanted so badly to live, if not only for her. He struggled but fell limp, unable to open his leaden eyelids enough to see her clearly, and then she was gone. He saw her again periodically, like the oscillations of the foamy tide at the glimmering Aegean sea. She would appear, in utmost clarity, and then leave him again. Her words became stronger, constant. He heard them at all hours of the day and tried to make sense of them.

He still couldn't speak.

One evening, she returned with the full moon.

"There's something I need to show you, Harry," she whispered into his ear, so close to him he swore he almost felt something fluttery in him, but then quickly dismissed it, having proven long before that he was no longer capable of such feelings.

Harry's mouth opened ever so slightly at the almost tangible tenderness of her ethereal voice, but still no words could escape. There was so much that he needed to say, so much he yearned to tell her, but he was simply incapable. He wanted to come to life for her, but the path to an illuminated world was blocked by the nightmares and guilt and horrors of his past.

She pointed her intricately detailed wand of oak at nothing in particular and said, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

He shook despite himself, the incantation opening up something inside of him and his emerald eyes. A hare burst from the end of her wand and pranced joyfully around the room, lighting up the world with an energy of pure silver. And then he remembered. He remembered the parts of his past that weren't marked with death and destruction. He remembered the bits of light amongst the darkness.

And then the fire that had been contained inside of him exploded.

"_That's right, Harry…come on, think of something happy…_"

He was unsure as to what was memory and what the girl was currently saying. The hare jumped around the room and Harry realized his own wand was in his hand and pointed ahead of him. He was trembling helplessly.

"_Something happy?_"

"_We're still here, we're still fighting. Come on, now…"_

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

The sheer force of the spell threw Harry back, and the air in front of him was opaque with pearly swirls. And then a silver stag emerged and began to frolic with the hare.

When he woke, the world was bright. For once, he wasn't tired.

"Are you feeling alive again?" Luna inquired peacefully, her wide grey eyes smiling nearly as much as her full, smooth lips.

He pulled her face to his with a steady hand and their lips met in a fiery kiss.

"I'm alive as long as I have you," he said, the newborn words sounding foreign after months of silence.

"Looks like the Wrackspurts are clearing out," Luna noted vaguely.

"Why did you follow me?" he questioned her.

"You needed me. What are friends for?" Luna answered him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I love you, Luna," he breathed, his lips pressed against her neck.

"Let's go," she said, jumping up suddenly. "Let's go see the world. We have to make up for lost time, don't we?"

He grinned for the first time in what seemed like forever, and the two walked on.

The stag and the hare were never far away.


End file.
